


The Snow Was Falling When I Fell For You

by CrowKing



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, One Shot, Romantic love, fic request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowKing/pseuds/CrowKing
Summary: Fic Request: Just wanna say one I am in love with your Ramsay fanfics and oneshots and two it's my birthday today and I was wondering if you can do a oneshot of Ramsay x Reader and they're childhood friends I always have that concept in my mind but can never write it since I suck at writing fanfics





	The Snow Was Falling When I Fell For You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, wanted to write this one because it was different from most of the requests I get. So this fic is much different than most of my other fics. I'm really proud of it, and I really like it. That being said, i think i may have gotten some timeline things wrong, and i do apologize for that. 
> 
> Other than that, please enjoy! I don't normally upload twice in one tag in one day, so there you go lol. If you are reading one of my works for the first time and you like it, I do have a tumblr filled with much more Ramsay Bolton fics and more. ( crowkingwrites.tumblr.com )
> 
> As always if you have any comments, questions, or concerns please let me know! I take feedback seriously.

The snow crushed beneath your feet as your little feet ran in the snow. Your cheeks were red and you were covered from head to toe in warm furs. Your family had settled in the North months ago. Your father wanted to raise your family around people that had morals and values instead of violence and politics. So, he took your mother, your siblings, and you far north away from king’s Landing where the land was cold, but the people were warm.

Most of them anyways. The butcher’s boys were running after you with an old set of rusty knives. It scared you, so you took off. They kept running after you simply because they wanted to scare you more. 

Your feet carried you across the fields by the Weeping Water. The river had frozen over, but people still used it as a guide to where they were. Right now, it was your guide near to your father’s workplace, The Dreadfort.

“Come back Y/N!” the first butcher’s boy said. 

“Yeah we won’t hurt you!” the second responded. They laughed as they brandished their rusted kitchen weaponry. Tears began to form as you ran faster in the snow. Suddenly, you tripped over a snow-covered branch. You landed knee-first into the cold dirt. The butcher’s boys caught up to you and loomed over you.

“Did someone fall?” they cackled.

“Please stop,” you begged them.

“She’s crying!” the first one came closer. He had a meat cleaver in his hand. His dirty fingers wrapped around the handle tightly as if he were some knight. “Let’s see if we can make her cry more.” 

The butcher’s boy raised the cleaver high above his head. 

“Please! Don’t! Stop!” you cried loudly. You heard the younger butcher’s boy mock you and laugh. You closed your eyes. This was it. That’s when you heard another set of footsteps in the snow.

“I would leave her alone if I were you,” you heard his threat and you opened your eyes. He was a little older than you. His dark hair was wild, but his blue eyes were set on the two boys in front of him. He stepped in front of you, creating an obstacle between you and your enemies.  
“You can’t tell us what to do,” the older one told him.

“Yeah!” the younger one shouted. The older boy protecting you kept a serious face. His hand twiddled with a flaying knife. 

“I don’t care what you think I can and can’t do. Leave her alone, that’s an order,” he threatened. The boys stood their ground. The older butcher’s boy was a heavy one. His size was easily twice the size of the older boy. He walked closer to him, making the space between them little and tension higher.

“I’m not going anywhere. Now move, or I’ll cut you.” The older butcher’s boy raised the cleaver above his head again. In a swift move, the older boy took his flaying knife and cut the butcher’s boy’s face. The cut was thin and long. Blood started to leak from his cheek and his eyes caught the end of it. The butcher’s boy dropped the cleaver and screamed in pain.

“My eye!” he cried out. He covered his face and ran off in the opposite direction. You sat up in shock. They were gone. A hand extended out towards you, and you took it. The older boy helped you off the ground.

“Are you alright?” he asked you. You nodded your head. “You’re Kevan’s daughter, aren’t you? My father is a very big fan of your father’s work.”

“Thank you,” you said in a small voice. You winced in pain. Lifting your skirts, a small stream of blood leaked down your leg because of the cut on your knee. 

“Don’t worry,” the older boy said. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again. Come with me.” He offered his hand to you, and for the first time you felt the world slow down. His fingertips were in high detail. You could see every groove on them, just as you could see every shade of blue in his eyes. Your heart was swelling. You thought this only happened in the romantic stories your mother told you. 

“What’s your name?” you asked as you took his hand.

“Snow. Ramsay Snow,” he guided you back to the Dreadfort. 

From that day on, you followed Ramsay like a small shadow. He did not mind. You were his private audience to his entertainment. Every bug he smashed, you were there. Every adult he stood up to, you were there. Every cut he made on someone, you were there watching him, admiring him, falling for him more.

You couldn’t say if your father approved of the special relationship Ramsay shared with you, but it made his pockets swell with coins. Turns out, if the bastard favors you, the Lord of the Dreadfort favors you, then business would do extremely well. 

But he was your father first. He had heard of Ramsay’s torment behavior. How he enjoyed inflicting pain upon others. Granted, most of them were enemies of the North, it still concerned him. He secretly looked at you longer every time you came home, and checked for any cuts or bruises. God help the man that inflicted any pain on you. However, your skin was clear of any aliments or pain. You always smiled when you came home and you always helped around the house. Your father let it go.

Ramsay was only two years older than you, but every time his father made him wear ‘proper gear’ when Ned Stark came to visit, he looked much older than he was. Ned made frequent visits to other castles to hear their concerns and such. This particular visit was important to Roose, so he pulled out all the stops.

A feast was held, candles were lit, and nearly everyone was invited. You wore your best dress and half-braided your hair into a wreath crown. Long sleeves protected you from the cold weather, and the rest of your hair cascaded over your shoulders. When you walked into the great hall, young men noticed you as a young woman for the first time. Ramsay Snow, all in proper wear, watched you float like a dream he remembered having over and over again. 

That night, Ramsay never left your side. His fingers could never quite leave your body alone, and your father noticed quite quickly how beautiful you looked and how Ramsay’s eyes never strayed from your chest and face.

It had been a magical night for you. Ramsay never treated you like this ever. Of course, you never told him how you felt. How your heart swelled when you saw him or how you admired how he was true to his family traditions. You couldn’t express how your hairs raised when he touched you. 

Ramsay led you away from the feast, laughing and shushing you. Both of you stopped near open windows to see the snow gently falling from the black sky. Ramsay touched the ends of your curls and played with them. The next thing you knew, he placed his lips over yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and a warmth grew from inside you. Ramsay’s hands held your face. He kept kissing you like he needed to breathe.

It was wonderful, but your father saw. His head couldn’t get rid of the rumors. The ideas of dark dungeons filled with the stench of rotting skin, organs across the floor, and dead kings on the walls telling him to get his daughter away from Ramsay. This was too much. Yes, the idea of his daughter marrying highborn was a desire among common men, but not this one. Not this bastard. 

He looked back at you and the Bolton bastard kissing, and your father had to do something. 

The next day, your heart broke into pieces as your father had sent you off to Winterfell, a place miles and miles away from Ramsay. You were a handmaiden now to Catelyn Stark. Although she was kind and warm to you, you missed home. You missed your family, your friends, and you missed him. 

Months passed, and you learned to live without him. You heard how ill Robb Stark would speak of Roose, and you would keep your ill-mannered words to yourself. Years passed, and you watched Ned Stark leave home, and soon enough you watched Catelyn and Robb leave home as well. Soon enough, you knew they wouldn’t return home. 

Then, you watched in horror as Theon Greyjoy took over Winterfell. He was always so cruel to you. Lingering looks and trying to convince you to warm his bed, pushing you to the ground when you didn’t. He was your Lord now whether you liked it or not, but you were smart. You knew squids couldn’t survive far from the water for too long. 

The sky was gray that day. Clouds gathered up in bunches and crowds and filled the sky with something ominous. You were tying to do your chores that day when a Greyjoy soldier cornered you.

“Where you going?” he asked you, his breath smelled of old ale. 

“To the kennels, ser,” you looked down. He grabbed your arm tightly. 

“No, you’re coming with me. Theon says you’re a good bedwarmer.” His smile had two ‘ missing. One on the top, and the other on the bottom. Another soldier ran towards the center of Winterfell. “Oi! What’s going on?”

“I don’t know! We’re being called! Come on!” the soldier continued to run. You tried to get out of the soldier’s grasp.

“Uh uh, you’re coming with me. Understand?” the Greyjoy soldier dragged you to the courtyard. Your eyes looked down at the ground. Flakes of snow decorated your hair. Theon Greyjoy was shouting something, and that’s when you heard him. 

You looked up to see him. He looked more like Lord than the Bastard. He wore his family’s colors like he was a trueborn. His blue eyes were frosted and he had bags under his eyes. He’s aged. So have you. You felt so frozen. He had to know you were there. Ramsay’s eyes scanned the crowd. 

“Ramsay!” you shouted. The Greyjoy soldier hit you in the back of the head hard.

“Are you mad? Don’t you know who he is?” he said worriedly. The back of your head burned, but you opened your eyes to see Ramsay’s looking back at you. You saw a mixture of emotions in his face. Confusion. Realization. Love. Depression. Anger. Wrath.

You weren’t sure how it happened, but it was fast. An arrow went through the Greyjoy soldier’s head. Two other Greyjoy soldiers died on the spot. You ran off. You knew better than to stand in the middle of a slaughter. It didn’t seem long until you heard the shouting and fighting. Not long after that, you could smell the Greyjoys piss themselves.

The aftermath was ugly. Several men had lost their limbs. Other men were crucified in X-shaped crosses. Flies had already began their feasts spreading disease and pestilence.

“Y/N,” you heard a voice behind you. You knew who it was. You would run to him while everyone else could run away. You wrapped yourself around him, breathing him in. “Is this where you have been? All of these years?”

You nodded and let yourself cry in his chest. Ramsay pushed you away, but kept you close enough to wipe away the tears. 

“My quiet girl. Hush now,” he comforted you. “I promised you I wouldn’t let anyone touch you, didn’t I? Don’t cry, sweetling.” Ramsay turned you around for you to see the whole carnage. Greyjoy soldiers and Winterfell natives lay dead on the ground. Snow fell over their bodies creating an eerie sheet over them. Blood seeped into the dirt; this was Bolton land now.

“One day, this will all be mine,” he whispered into your ear. “And my word will be law. You won’t disappear from me again. No one could touch you. You would belong to me.”

“I already belong to you,” you told him. You didn’t let go of him as you kissed him in the cold weather. Your lips parted for a moment. Your forehead touched his. “I’ve missed you terribly.”

“Don’t leave me again. Stay here. Watch me rule over them all,” Ramsay’s gloved hand lifted your chin. 

“Yes my lord.” You smiled, melting to his touch. You fell for him when the sky was gray and ugly, and you would always fall for him.


End file.
